When Charles Blondin crossed Niagara Falls on a tightrope, the crowd roared with confidence. They had watched him walk the rope blindfolded, push a wheelbarrow across it, even cook an omelet on it. So when he asked, “Do you believe I can carry a man across in this wheelbarrow?” the crowd shouted, “Yes!” But when he followed with, “Who will get in the wheelbarrow?”—no one moved.

They believed about him, but they didn’t trust in him.

That moment captures something essential about the Christian life. God does not invite us to admire Him from a distance. He calls us to trust Him personally. And nowhere is that clearer than in the opening words of the Ten Commandments.

Before God gives a single command—before He says one “You shall” or “You shall not”—He begins with Himself. Exodus 20 doesn’t begin with demands; it begins with deliverance. The Ten Commandments are not a moral ladder we climb to earn God’s favor. They are the response of a rescued people learning how to live free.

The first words in Exodus 20 are simple: “And God spoke…” The God who thundered on Sinai is the God who speaks. The Hebrew word here—Elohim—is the same name used in Genesis 1. Just as creation began with “And God said,” the moral order begins the same way. The same God who spoke galaxies into existence now speaks His law into existence. These words were written, Exodus says, by His very finger.

Before God tells Israel what to do, He tells them who is speaking. Obedience is not about rule‑keeping; it is about responding to the God who reveals Himself. Like sheep who recognize the voice of their shepherd, God’s people are meant to lean forward when He speaks. In a world full of competing voices—our fears, our desires, our culture—God’s voice cuts through the noise.

And then God says, in verse 2, something even more astonishing: “I am the LORD your God.” Not “I will be your God if you obey.” Not “I might be your God if you perform well.” But “I am already your God—therefore obey.”

Relationship precedes requirement. The word “your” in Hebrew is singular. Even though millions stood at Sinai, God addressed each Israelite as if they were the only one standing there. His covenant love is not general—it is personal. His commands are not abstract—they are addressed to you. God is not simply forming a nation; He is forming a people whose hearts He claims one by one.

And like any loving Father, He gives limits. Love often says “No.” Parents know this instinctively. I remember once telling one of my children not to play with matches while I was burning leaves. He didn’t listen—and came running back with singed eyebrows and smoking hair. He learned that day that a father’s “no” is rooted in love.

God’s “no” is the same. His commands protect us. His limits are expressions of His love.

But the most beautiful truth in these opening verses is this: “…who brought you out of the land of Egypt, out of the house of slavery.”

Before God commands anything, He reminds Israel of what He has already done. The law is rooted in freedom. The God who commands is the God who rescues. Israel is not obeying to get out of Egypt. They obey because they are already out. The law protects freedom. The law reflects God’s saving character. The law teaches redeemed people how to live redeemed lives.

This is the same truth Paul celebrates in Romans 5:8: “While we were still sinners, Christ died for us.” Redemption begins with God, not with us. Jesus echoes this in John 15:16: “You did not choose Me, but I chose you.” From Exodus to the Gospels to the Epistles, Scripture sings the same melody: God chooses, God calls, God rescues.

John Newton understood this. Once a slave‑ship captain, he was rescued by grace during a violent storm. Over time, the gospel transformed him. He left the slave trade, became a pastor, and joined Wilberforce in the fight to abolish slavery. Near the end of his life, nearly blind, he said, “I remember two things: that I am a great sinner, and that Christ is a great Savior.”

Newton didn’t obey to earn God’s love. He obeyed because he had been rescued by grace.

That is exactly what God is teaching Israel in Exodus 20. Before a single command is given, God declares, “I brought you out.” Obedience is not the price of redemption—it is the fruit of it. The cross comes before discipleship. Rescue comes before righteousness.

And this is where the Blondin illustration comes full circle. God does not ask us to admire Him from the sidelines. He calls us to trust Him—to get in the wheelbarrow, so to speak. To take Him at His Word. To believe that His commands are rooted in love, His limits are for our good, and His ways lead to life.

Exodus 20:1–2 is not a preface to the law—it is the foundation of the law. It tells us that God speaks, so we listen. God relates, so we trust. God saves, so we obey. This is the rhythm of the Christian life. This is the pattern of grace. This is the heartbeat of the gospel.

Before God ever says, “You shall,” He says, “I am.” Before He commands, He commits. Before He requires, He rescues.

Pray with me, that as we study these 10 Commandments, we will hear His voice, rest in His love, and walk in the freedom He has won for us.

Click on the link to learn more: https://www.newlifechurch.ae/sermons/sermon/2026-02-01/the-law-rooted-in-love